


Stay

by GalekhXigisi



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame Aftermath, Canonical Character Death, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), F/F, Parental Brunnhilde | Valkyrie, Parental Carol Danvers, Trans Peter Parker, other characters not mentioned in tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Carol knows Peter Parker is broken in ways no child should be. She and Valkyrie don't intend on "fixing" him, instead simply intending on helping him in any way they possibly can. After all, no teenager should have gone through what he did.





	Stay

People screaming is the very first thing Peter notes. The second is people sobbing. Yeah, he doesn’t miss any of that, especially when a woman is wailing right in his ear. He’s thankful for the mask that covered his face, even if it was metal, metal that had come from Tony Fucking Stark himself. His heart clenches as he reminds himself of that. 

 

There are so very few people he recognizes. For one, there’s Loki, floating above it all. He only recognizes the self-proclaimed villain because of new reports, yet he doesn’t exactly mind. In fact, he can feel the metal legs of his suit leaning towards the god as soon as he realizes who it is. The second he recognizes is Dr. Strange, who is  _ also _ floating above it all, just as literally as the other, which is completely so. 

 

The claws pull him up, pushing him off of the ground as he moves to stand beside Loki. “Son of Spiders,” the god greats simply, voice monotone, cool as can be. “I suppose you were fighting with Dr. Slide of Hand over there?” He points a thumb towards Dr. strange, who is calmly assisting Sam Wilson in calming people as well as directing them. 

 

Peter wants to shake his head, though he falters, instead letting his eyes grow wide. “How did you know who I was?” 

 

“You sport a lot of spiders, I took a simple guess.” He shrugs halfheartedly. “Besides, the one named Shuri has already called your name a multitude of times. I suppose she has a rather large interest in you, though you were the last I’ve seen to appear.” 

 

His brows furrow. He hadn’t talked to the princess much, instead just passing conversation and a multitude of memes. He hums softly. “My name is Peter, then,” he mumbles, folding his legs underneath himself. Two of the six mechanical legs fold beneath him, supporting his position without hesitation or stumble. “Son of…” He pauses. “I’m not sure.” 

 

“How are you not sure, Peter?” 

 

Peter turns towards the other, eyes full of emotions, unreadable with the swelter. “Well, my parents are both dead, my uncle is, and my aunt probably is now, too.” A shrug leaves him this time. “I’m sort of an orphan now, I think.” He huffs, a passive smile decorating his features, something uncomfortable that easily passed off as normal. It wasn’t a crazed one, just one of ruined innocence that he knew the god was piecing together instantly. 

 

“How old are you?” 

 

“Uh, fifteen, sir.” 

 

“Hm, you’re just a few hundred earthen years younger than me.” 

 

“No, no, fifteen  _ earth _ years, Mr. Loki.” 

 

The shock radiates off the god within an instant. His brows raise and it seems to be clear that he doesn’t exactly understand. “You’re so tiny? You are still a baby?” There seemed to be some parental instinct behind his words, though neither commented. Instead, they just moved with the current, listening to people shout other’s names, listened to the chaos unfold. The god seems to take Peter under his wing without hesitation. 

 

After that, time doesn’t seem to change. It’s constantly day, the sunset a timid yellow and orange mix, hues shuffling together amidst the dusky backdrop. There is no sun, no end nor beginning. It goes on for forever, never ending no matter what anyone seems to believe. Peter knows it does and it makes his head ache so horribly. His spidey-senses constantly tingle somewhat and sleep is near possible to achieve. If Peter isn’t with Loki nor Shuri, he can be caught with Dr. Strange, learning magic from the wizard and god while learning even more about technology with Shuri and T’Challa alike. 

 

The first few days, he is occasionally caught behind Bucky, calling him  _ Mister Jesus, Sir _ and following him around like a lost puppy. The giant of a man doesn’t seem to mind in the least, becoming as parental as Loki, T’Challa, and Dr. Strange. It was odd, the four being so protective of him, mirroring Tony’s actions though much tamer. It’s clear to be a comfort to Peter more than anything. They also manage to keep him out of many situations that would be far from desirable such as the time he almost stabbed Sam with a metal spider leg. Bucky was his savior there, even if Shuri had encouraged it. 

  
The thing about the soul stone world, though, is that no one dies. They can feel pain just fine, but death is nothing more than a joke. No one grows, no one needs to breathe, no one needs to eat, and so on. Life is meaningless, not even living anymore. They all become zombies that mourn the dead, mourn the  _ alive. _ Everything becomes numb, becomes  _ pointless. _ Peter knows that, watches it happen so slowly yet so quickly. 

 

By the end of the first year, Peter only sees Dr. Strange once every twelve thousand playthroughs of  _ What’s New Pussycat. _ If not for constantly repeating it, he knew he would lose that information. People had dispersed, had gone into nothing more than people walking along the plane that was existence here. Peter had a fair amount of magical knowledge at this point from both the god and wizard alike, but it didn’t make him any less lonely. All his spells were burning and fresh as could be in his mind, simply there and catching his attention at random intervals, demanding to be used or seen, to be practiced amidst the damn  _ nothing _ that had become his home. Water spells were the most common, as the entire soul stone world had a rough two to seven inches of water covering the floor. How it went from two to seven, he hadn’t known, but he guessed it was from tears at this point. 

 

His hands form the portal on instinct, marking the seventeenth thousand round of  _ It’s Not Unusual. _ He can peer into universes here, all connected through the stones, through anything and everything. Every single thing is connected by a singular lifeforce. While it was unpinnable, it was still  _ there _ and Loki had taught him how to access it while Dr. Strange had accidentally taught him how to view it. It was a gateway to the outside world, though peter no longer knew where he had originated from, which universe was his own and which ones weren’t. No one was ever there to correct him, either. 

 

Peter sobs. He sobs because there’s nothing else to do. He can’t get to Dr. Strange, nor any of the other few around him. All he can do is be stuck there, choking down existence and all. He misses Tony, misses Natasha, misses  _ everyone. _ The motherly spider had always shown nothing but support for his antics while Tony had disapproved of the behavior, only stopping them when absolutely needed. 

 

Now, though, this portal shows Natasha, staring at a screen with tears dribbling down her face. The red roots seem to be growing out, overtaking the trimmed blonde. She’s silent, but Peter moves the image around, looking at the screen. He ignores his own tears to read  _ Third Attack In Japan This Week. _ He’s sure by the arrow pictures and Natasha’s necklace that it has something to do with Clint. She wore it more often when she missed him, often keeping it underneath her shirt instead. Now, her left hand fiddles with the jewels. Peter only chokes on more tears, closing the viewing pool. 

 

The soul stone was crushed somewhere along the fifth year. It was shattered, and the world seemed to reflect that. What never seemed to end suddenly did, places splitting up together. Anyone with the balls to joke over the cracks were those that had become legends, or at least Peter thought so. He no longer saw anyone, instead just viewing the world as it was, as the shattered blood-orange backdrop with stillborn embers burning around the edges, never igniting, simply existing. He doesn’t test out how far it goes and whether or not he could get there. Instead, he sits and lets the blood drop consume him. 

 

That is until it doesn’t anymore. Because suddenly he’s thrust back into the world, body solidifying instantly. The first thing he does is fall, falling from where he seemed to be hovering in the air. He then promptly rolls over and vomits in the gross dirt. Tears soak his face and his body hurts, but he doesn’t make a comment. Instead, he just lets whatever happen  _ happen. _ Getting carried off to yet another war instantly? Fine. He’s fifteen, maybe twenty, he can do it. He’s been through worse. Hell, he’s had a building fall on him and gotten a thousand-pound container thrown at him by Captain America with the intent to kill, yet he was somehow still living. 

 

He’s practically ecstatic when he sees Tony again, even if he knows he looks like shit. He’s sputtering to the hero with an instant, not really minding that they were in the middle of a battlefield. He’s confused by the hug, but he does comment, “This is nice,” with a passive smile. It doesn’t last, though, because he’s getting swept away by more villains. When he has the gauntlet, he manages to not falter, no matter how much he stares at the gemstones, tempted to throw on the gauntlet himself. He doesn’t, though, instead listens to the others that tell him to keep playing pass it. 

 

The gauntlet hurts his soul, makes it vibrate with a note he can only describe as a B flat on an oboe. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he  _ knows _ that, deep inside of him. He curls around himself, around the glove, falling into a fetal position. It’s a learned habit that he wishes he didn’t have. However, Captain Marvel seems to pull him out of it with a smile. 

 

“Hey, Peter Parker, got something for me,” she asks in a cool tone, brow raised passively. She’s so painfully calm and Peter relishes in it. 

 

The women crowd around him at one point. It feels better than when he considers that he could actually die, that he could die  _ again, _ that he could be dead and that this is a final grasp before he finally shuts down and is conscious dies permanently. He doesn’t want to think about that, though, so he treads forward with whatever energy he still holds. He doesn’t give himself a choice, just going with it. It isn’t instinct, isn’t a gut force, it just happens because he knows that if he doesn’t, worse things will happen. 

 

But just as suddenly as things were beginning, they were ending, and Peter is pulling the corpse of his final father figure behind him. He could have carried Tony by himself, he knew that well enough, but Pepper and Rhodey had insisted he not be left to his own devices with the other. Honestly, he’s incredibly thankful for it, even if he’s carrying most of the weight. It doesn’t help that he’s clearly filled with guilt.  _ I could have put it on, just put on the glove and ended it. It shouldn’t have been him. It should have been me. _ His mind is no safer than a minefield would be. 

 

It doesn’t help to see Morgan’s sad face. His mind only dwells deeper into the pit he was burying himself in. Tony had a  _ family, _ had Morgan, Pepper, even  _ Harley. _ Peter was simply an orphan with no family left. Now, though, his mind becomes a toxic place faster than he suspects, but four years of isolation doesn’t help, either. Then again, neither did ever having a literal building thrown atop his body. 

 

Peter doesn’t talk to Steve. He doesn’t talk to Thor, either. Instead, he chats with Bruce Banner. The soul stone had very few blessings to it. One of those few had been that his soul and body matched. When he returned, though, he didn’t have that much luck, instead, he was put face to face with the issue of being a broke teenager in need of testosterone. Thanks to the  _ Stark Internship [which was actually just Tony putting him on he and Pepper’s personal medical records] _ he could afford it just fine. 

 

He stands with Bucky, the two standing respectively as the funeral for Steve and Natasha  _ (a joined funeral, how fitting) _ went on. Bucky and Sam were in the background, Peter joining them because being any closer would make him break down into sobs. He knew the two veteran heroes were the exact same as he was. While he wasn’t exactly that close to Steve, he was sure as Hell close to Natasha.  _ Mother Spider _ had once been her affectionate nickname dubbed by Peter. Loki had even pointed out that if he wasn’t  _ Son of Tony, _ then the title _ Son of Spiders _ had meant _ Son of Natasha. _ Now, though, that thought makes his stomach squeeze and churn uncomfortably. 

 

He bounces around homes. To Sam and Bucky’s flat, to T’Challa and Shuri’s kingdom, to he and May’s old apartment, to Ned’s, to MJ’s, and so on. He even joins Thor and Loki at more than one point, as well as Dr. Strange’s “home.” Peter wasn’t exactly sure what to call it, nor was he sure if it even was an actual home. He stays everywhere but one place for longer than a week or two. 

 

Valkyrie and Carol call him out on this, the two’s shared home being where he ends up after a few months of this endless, abusive cycle. Now, though, he sits on the girl’s couch, Goose laying in his lap and happily letting him pet her. He wasn’t wary in the least, somehow able to sense what was and wasn’t enough for the feline just fine. 

 

“Peter,” Carol takes up carefully. His head jerks up from where he was focused on Goose, now to the woman, a hum of acknowledgment leaving him instantly. “Do you have any permanent place to stay?” 

 

He huffs softly, shrugging. “Sort of.” His eyes turn back to Goose, who presses her nose against his hand, tentative with her affection yet so aware of his need for comfort. “I have the apartment that I shared with May but… That’s still too much right now.” It still had constant reminders of his parental aunt. The home was still far too fresh with painful memories, with pictures that made his face and stomach flush, made his blood run cold. He couldn’t count the number of times he had broken down in that apartment since his return. It was mentally taxing and staying there would knowingly destroy what little stability the boy had left. 

 

Valkyrie walks into the room, pressing a cup of water to the table as she sits down beside him. The queen of Asgard didn’t comment. She had knowingly heard it all from the kitchen. She had probably talked about it to Carol the day before, maybe even weeks before. He had been bouncing around enough for word to spread pretty fast. 

 

“We… Wanted to know if you’d like to stay here until you can get everything sorted out. I know that we’re far from parently suited, but… You’re just fifteen. This shouldn’t be something you handle by yourself.” 

 

The care in her voice makes Peter feel guilty. He doesn’t want to say no to her, yet he doesn’t want to say yes, either. A yes means commitment, a commitment he doesn’t know if he has, nor if he even wants to unfold. 

 

Valkyrie is quick to add on, “You don’t have to answer now, Peter. I know that it was hard and this was a big decision. If you need time to think, you’ve got it.” Her eyes flit to her wife, so full of a calculated concern. 

 

Peter just wants to cry at the offer, to then them, to deny them, to accept them. Instead of doing any of those, he presses a hand back through Goose’s fur, quietly mumbling a gentle, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Imma be real with y'all, this was not what I intended. I intended for this to end up with Harley, Peter, Morgan, and Pepper all living together, but this new possible family dynamic lowkey had me thriving. 
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